heroin

ok so this could happen to someone but its never happen to me, so i put it as fiction
its also a response to a poem my friend wrote

something so awful, how could it be this pretty? a felling i can't but to have there are places where the worst of things or seen as the best the black around your eyes is to die for the bloodshot eyes, people i can't wait to have this life isn't mean to be seen so let me see it in a blur..just this last night? one last time? and one last shot? i lay cold on the floor, my hands shaking with a needle in it, held to my arm a smile on my face, laughing like i have so many times like child, but in a odd scary tone blood runs from my arm i look at what i have done in my mind i know this life isn't right in my heart, my heart calls for it every night and cries for the dark in the day by day, im in the life of class, in the light,with fame but i walk the streets with a dirty feeling by night, im in the dark, in alley waiting to be paid, waiting to pay, yet i feel so clean it to late? my heart's at home there now, and theres no escape...but why would i want to?

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